


Hands On

by leiascully



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-23
Updated: 2010-06-23
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lee teaches Anders about <em>Galactica</em>'s hands-on systems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands On

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: I tried to fit it in between "The Son Also Rises" and "Crossroads". This may not be possible, but BSGWiki seemed to imply that it could be. Otherwise, consider it AU.  
> A/N: Why is there not more Lee/Sam? I have attempted to remedy this while also filling the "leather/latex/rubber" square on my [**kink_bingo**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/users/kink_bingo/) card. I've never touched one of the flight suits, but seeing them (or a really good reconstruction) made me think they were constructed like wet suits. Thus: this fic.  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

"You my pilot?" Anders asks, ducking into the Raptor.

"Looks like it," Lee says. "Why are you all smocked up?"

"These things are sweltering," Anders says, tugging at the collar of his suit. "But I just got it - wanted the whole experience."

"You get used to it," Lee says shortly. "You ought to be wearing your helmet, rook, if you really want the whole experience."

"Longshot," Anders says. "They call me Longshot. We're not going anywhere, right? Just sitting here in the cockpit."

"I hate the late rotation," Lee says to nobody in particular, as if he and Anders aren't the only ones there. They're the only ones on the whole deck, actually. But Anders signed up for the late rotation Raptor nav training, and Lee, as assigned by the CAG, had to take it. He doesn't, in fact, hate the late rotation. He likes it. He's barely in the military anymore anyway, stuck on guard duty. He takes the rotation to help Helo even up the schedule. There's usually nobody around. All he has to do is wait for the alarm. The pilots stay in the ready room. He stays in a Raptor. It works out for everyone. But tonight, he's got Anders. Helo must be laughing in his sleep.

He and Anders get along better now, with Kara gone, but it's not exactly the stuff of his dreams to be sitting in a cockpit with his ex-lover's widower, flicking the switches on a Raptor and waiting the excruciatingly long interval for the old, slow, clunky systems to fire up. Gods, how he misses the Mark Sevens sometimes. He's so tired of having all of these frakking broken pieces to put together, all these birds that can't even communicate with each other. That's probably some kind of metaphor, he thinks.

"Let's get started," he says to Anders. "To start up the Raptor systems, you flip this switch, press this button, and ease this toggle forward."

"Flip, press, ease," Anders mutters to himself. "Got it." His face is all creased like he's concentrating hard. Lee stifles some unkind thoughts. He knows Anders isn't stupid. He wishes he didn't. It would be easier to hate the guy.

"Communications." Lee points to a screen and a switch. "Navigation. Weapons, when you've got 'em. Otherwise, FTL." He takes Anders through all the systems, all the subsystems, and all the places to hit the console when the systems malfunction. Anders makes that face but he's listening.

"Thanks, man. Uh, sir." Anders tugs at his collar again. "Not used to the terminology yet."

"Don't sweat it." Lee brushes it off as much as he can. Every time Anders moves, his suit creaks. It's a little distracting. Lee's never noticed that from his own suit, but maybe it's too worn in, or maybe Anders' smock is a little small.

"Hard not to in these suits," Anders says. "How are you not baking? I'm sweating like it's the algae planet."

"You get used to it, I guess," Lee shrugs.

"What are these things made of, solid rubber lined with leather? It's basically an oven."

"Some kind of rubber," Lee says. "I never really thought about it."

"Mind if I unzip?" Anders asks, waiting for Lee's approval with one hand on his zipper.

Lee shrugs. "Whatever gets you through it. Speaking of which, you tell me what goes where."

"Uh, okay," Anders begins, peeling down the top of his smock, and does a pretty respectable job of leading Lee through the same territory. Lee has to lean in closer, which is weird, because Anders smells kind of like Kara. The air coming off him has that same spicy scent Lee always associates with Kara, since she came back, since they started fooling around. He's kind of turned on by it, which is weird, but he can't really help it, either. Nothing ever smelled as good as Starbuck did - she could turn him on just by wafting past him - and now to find out that it was Anders rubbing off on her or something doesn't mean that the reaction's gone.

Between that and the creaking of Anders' suit that's starting to sound like someone's frakking in it, Lee's a little wired. A lot wired. He's been on the outs with Dee since before the exodus, and he was on the outs with Kara to. He's got a whole lot of energy that's going nowhere, and suddenly, thinking of Anders sweaty and slick inside the stupid rubber jock smock, he wants it to go somewhere.

"So how do we calculate the FTL coordinates?" Anders asks. "Do we just punch in the coordinates on the inboard computer, or does it come from CIC, or how does that whole thing work?"

Lee leans closer and takes a deep breath: spice, salt, and rubber. He squeezes his own thigh as he shows Anders how to communicate with CIC, how the computers share the work, how the Cylon upgrades that Athena gave them allow the computer to correct itself. He's not wearing his gloves or his suit, just his fatigues. The cloth doesn't have the resilience of the rubber of his flight suit. Gods, he wishes he'd worn his smock tonight. He wants to feel the tension of the rubber around his body as his muscles flex . He wants the smell and the sound of it all over him, holding him as he finds release. He's sure it's obvious how turned on he is. The fatigues don't hide anything.

"You okay, buddy? Sir, I mean," Sam asks. "You look a little hot."

"I'm fine," Lee says. "Just a little overworked."

"No time to relax, huh," Anders says.

"None," Lee says ruefully. "Between guard duty and nugget duty."

"Sorry," Anders says. "Anything I can do to help?"

Lee stares at him for a long moment. "Are you frakking with me?"

"Nah," Anders says, with that big earnest face. "Why? Should I be?"

"Seriously," Lee says.

"Seriously," Anders says. "You think Pyramid was all we got up to in the mountains? You think showering was all that went on in the locker room? I know about stress and pressure. Sometimes you need a little something to take the edge off. Besides, you're the only one around missing her the way I am." He takes his hand off the joystick and slides it up over Lee's knee. "Might as well suffer together, right?"

"Leave the suit on," Lee says.

"You got it, sir," Sam says, shrugging back into the top of the suit but leaving it unzipped. And then his big hands are inside Lee's fatigues, and Lee can feel his cock rubbing against the ridges of the cuff of Sam's smock. Zeus Almighty, the texture of the rubber against his skin is a better high than a pint of ambrosia after a couple of Roslin's cigarettes. Lee can't stop his head falling back. Anders is talented: his fingers work over Lee's cock with an easy familiarity. Lee wasn't expecting it to be this good. He clutches at Anders, gets his fist around the edge of Anders' smock, and he's never going to be able to climb into his damn bird again without getting wound up. As Anders's fist moves, the suit squeaks again and again, like the creak of bedsprings.

"You smell great," Lee tells Anders, because his brain seems to have oozed out of his head and down to his balls.

"Good to know," Anders says, tossing him a grin. "Glad you like eau de sweaty guy encased in rubber."

"Mmm, yeah," Lee manages. "'S really working for you." He can see the faint damp patch against Anders' belly and the sheen of sweat on Anders' cheek. He grips harder on Anders' suit, tugging at it, pulling Anders toward him, the material of the suit resisting so that Sam has to come closer. He puts his other hand on Anders' bicep and squeezes, feeling the muscle inside roll under the pressure, the suit nearly tight enough to be a second skin. Anders kisses him roughly, mostly teeth and tongue, and then leans back.

"You like that, sir?" he asks. "You like the way that feels?" Lee isn't sure exactly whether it's arm or suit under discussion, but he likes them both.

"Yeah," he breathes.

Anders takes Lee's hand off his bicep and plants it firmly on his own crotch so that Lee can feel the bulge there. Lee caresses him through the suit, kneading at the thick material. He's almost glad of the barrier - it makes this better somehow, at least while he's trying not to think about the fact that he's frakking Kara's husband - but his hands are sweaty enough to make the rubber slick, and the feeling of all of it is almost too much.

"Anders..."

"Let it go," Anders whispers roughly. "Let it all go."

Lee groans and comes, spurting over Anders' suit and his tanks. Anders just grins and holds on, pushing his hips against Lee's palm, and Lee takes the hint and rubs faster, firmer, wrestling the zipper down so that he can get one hand inside the suit but still squeezing through it too. He kneads Anders' cock through the rubber and strokes it with the other hand, and Gods, if he had any more in him, he'd come right now from touching the slippery rubber that feels almost like skin. Anders comes quietly, just a gasp and a shudder.

"Gods, that'll never come out," he pants, looking down to where Lee's just pulling his hand out.

"Everybody christens their smock," Lee says, leaning back into his seat, breathing hard. "Congrats, nugget. You passed Level One Raptor Training. By the way, everything on _Galactica_ is hands-on, if Racetrack hasn't shown you already."

"I think I'll be able to handle it," Anders says with a wink.

"Don't hesitate to let me know if you need any more practice," Lee says.

"Good to know, sir," Anders says.


End file.
